The Princess and the Pirate
by Mimi DuBois
Summary: While en route to Calais, Princess Mary and her betrothed, Lord Rochford are set upon by pirates, captained by the heir to the Irish Earl of Kildare. What ensues is romance and adventure on the High Seas.
1. Chapter 1

**The Princess and the Pirate: Chapter I**

I do not own the Tudors. However I do own all original characters contained herein.

This story contains some swearing and mature themes. Adult reader's only please.

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Thank you to Carolina who begged me to finally get this down on paper. To Courture212, Ladyjaxx and Narcissa for their enthusiasm about the plot and the possibilities.

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**Dublin, Ireland**

**Autumn 1532**

"I do not understand why you signed the letter to His Holiness relative to the divorce of Their Majesties. Ye despise the Concubine's kinsman, The Earl of Ormonde! Queen Catherine is a good and pious woman, Da! Once more, she has been a perfect wife to His Majesty these 23 three years past. Had she desired to she could have taken up arms against His Majesty. Remember she is the daughter of Her Most Catholic Majesty, Queen Isabella of Castile."

"But England needs heirs. Do you wish us to be thrust back into civil war, Killian? Like in the time of the Cousins' War?" The Earl of Kildare asked his eldest son.

"England has an heir, the Princess Mary." Killian retorted. "But His Majesty has the audacity to create his bastard son, the Duke of Richmond Lord-Lieutenant. It is not to be borne, Da! That position is yours by right of birth as the premiere nobleman in this land. Richmond nor Butler have the right to take what is ours!"

"Then what would you have me do, Killian?" His father asked.

"Do what you have always done take up arms against them." Killian retorted.

"That is not enough!" His father replied. "Once more it is treason to conspire against the king. Would you have me spend another spell in the Tower of London, boy? The dampness from the river breeds sickness and invites death, lad."

"Well, if you are not going to act than I will." Killian said stubbornly.

"What is it? What do you have swirling about in that head of yours? Whatever it may be, I forbid it!" The earl said to his son.

"Plundering ships, Your Lordship." Killian replied.

"You would take to piracy?" His father asked.

"Why not? It is better than the smuggling and the wrecking of vessels off the coast that I am well aware that yourself and the O'Malleys attend to. Ah! Da you thought that you could hide that from me? I am not so well-educated and immersed in my fine French ways as you call them, to forget how the Fitzgeralds have added to their coffers in the past. I have not forgotten whence I came from and that I am an Irishman, through and through. I am going." Killian stated stubbornly, making to leave.

"Don't you walk away from me, boy!" The earl barked at his son.

"I am not a child!" Killian shot back.

"You are my child! My heir! If you do this you will be lost to me! What happens if you die at sea? Or worse are captured and brought up on charges?"

"You have other sons!" Killian was not about to move on this subject.

"So be it then." His father replied with a tired sigh. "Stubborn and pigheaded..."

"I am your son! I am Irish!" Killian retorted before sailing out of the room. The matter settled in his mind.

* * *

**Summer 1533,**

**The English Channel en route to Calais**

A green faced George Boleyn staggered across the rolling deck of the ship to the starboard side, leaning over the rail, he heaved the remaining contents of his stomach into the white capped waves of the channel. Lifting his throbbing head for a moment to glare at his beautiful betrothed who approached him with a damp cloth and a small cup of ale, humming a naughty ditty one of the sailors had taught her smiling sweetly. Mary Tudor was not suffering at all from sea sickness and it made the viscount furious.

"Take a sip of this; it will help to ease your stomach distress." Mary told George, handing him the cup as he continued to lean over the rail.

George took it as she wiped his brow with the damp cloth. "Why are you being so bloody kind to me? If the tables were turned I would have allowed you to suffer." He said, meanly. Why did she have to look so fucking serene and content?

"No you would not." She replied confidently. "For all of your blustering I believe that you are quite chivalrous."

"If you say so!" Came the not so kind reply.

"I am attempting to make the best of a bad situation." Mary explained.

George barked with laughter making his temples throb in pain. "Do not fool yourself. I thoroughly have every intention of exercising my rights and taking what is mine when I am able. I ache to sample your charms. Is your skin as soft and lily white all over?" He asked turning from the rail to caress the side of her neck. His eyes narrowing as he caught sight of a vessel nearing them on the horizon that did not appear to be one of their escorts.

"What is it?" Mary asked.

"No matter, another ship 'tis all probably a merchant vessel headed to London." George explained.

"Ship! Ship off the starboard side!" A sailor up in the crow's nest called out, lowering down his spy glass. "Making straight for us, Captain Johnson!"

"Why would a ship be headed straight for us?" Mary asked curious.

"Ships usually get up alongside one another to exchange news, Your Grace, way of communicating." The First mate explained to Mary, he was a friendly tall stocky good looking man out of Devon with black curly hair and merry green eyes.

"Thank you, Fortescue. " Mary said.

The First Mate pulled at his forelock and bowed. "Your Grace." He said knowing that showing Mary Tudor proper reverence due to her made George Boleyn's blood boil with anger. Hal Fortescue did not care one whit what the Concubine's brother thought.

"She is not to be addressed as Your Grace any longer." George muttered, angrily.

"What sort of gentleman are you? Eh? Ye cannot wait to bed the lass yet you cannot show her the proper courtesy due her station. Oh, aye! I see the lust in yer eyes, Lor..." His words cut off by the boon of cannon. This was no merchant vessel but pirates, which upon seeing the Royal Standard flying on one of the masts were making a bee line for the Mary Rose. "Shite! Pirates! We had best get Your Grace safely barricaded in your cabin." Hal said to Mary as the pirate vessel bore down on them with unusual speed. The Englishmen breaking out the weapons scurrying about the deck, Captain Johnson barking and issuing orders as the crew turned with relish to meet the enemy. The grappling hooks flew, and the Mary Rose found herself pinioned against the pirate ship. Below decks the gun crews worked frantically to sink the pirate ship but the cannon bounced off her hull and into the waters of the channel as though it was made of iron. Above deck, sword in hand, Captain Johnson led his men in defense of the ship shouting orders as he attempted to get Mary safely into her cabin. Fortescue protecting her with his big frame as George Boleyn leapt forward into the fray of pirates and English sailors that appeared to come out of nowhere on to quarter deck.

"Ye'll be safe in here, Princess!" Captain Johnson said to Mary tossing her into her cabin where her three ladies-in-waiting were trembling behind the chest and on the bed, teeth chattering with anxiety and fear. "What will happen to us?" One of the women wailed.

"Captain Johnson will fend off the pirates and we will be safely on our way to Calais." Mary tried reassuring her women. Deep down she was just as terrified as they were. She had heard horrifying stories of pirates and what they would and could do to defenseless women. Mary wasn't about to go down without a fight if it came to that.

On the pirate ship, the Padraic, Lord Killian Fitzgerald, captain of said ship, grinned and laughed uproariously when one of his crew brought the word as to who was aboard the Mary Rose, as he, himself, swung onto the English ship sword brandishing in one hand, hook, dagger and a pair of pistols tucked in his belt. His leather jerkin open, linen shirt unlaced to mid chest showing a smattering of dark brown hair against sun bronzed skin. His blue eyes flashed with excitement, engaging all that came across his path and cutting down and running through several men including Captain Johnson who attempted vainly to block Killian's path to the cabins, falling on the blade of Killian's sword as he tried to deflect a blow from another pirate, falling at the pirate captain's feet, dead. Killian ascertained that was where the most precious cargo was being kept hidden. He would deal with her later first of all he had to get through the bodies and maneuver his way across the blood soaked deck to engage another opponent that was coming at him, a handsome man dressed in rich clothing. Killian instantly recognized Lord Rochford, Anne Boleyn's brother. Remembering the man from the time Killian had spent at the French court whilst attending the Sorbonne, Rochford being posted as ambassador to France. Steel met steel as the two men began to duel, moving about near the cabins.

Killian parried and thrust, George Boleyn was a fine and brave opponent. The two men circled one another. "Are you protecting what you hold dear that lies hidden in one of those cabins or are you intent on protecting your own life?" Killian asked George, deflecting a thrust from the older man's blade, twisting his hips about, coming up with his own blade to cut into Rochford's forearm, the sword slicing deep, blood began to seep forth staining the viscount's doublet sleeve scarlet.

George cried out in pain, staggering backward, near to the door of the cabin where the women were hiding, Mary could see his back silhouetted against the windows that faced the quarter deck, watched as his shoulders slumped through her place crouched behind the chest where her gowns and jewels were stored, peering around it, flinching when she heard George's cry. This did not bode well.

"Are you ready to give over, man?" Killian asked. Mary could hear his voice with its wee bit of Irish lilt where she stood listening. "Your captain is dead as is a goodly portion of your crew; your First Mate is injured and has been captured. If I were you, I would give over before I lost my miserable life because I have every intention of killing you! I could cut you again. Like this."

Mary's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a cry. Captain Johnson was dead! She shut her eyes saying a quick Ave for the repose of the man's soul which had now gone home to God. She crossed herself listening to the pirate threaten her betrothed. Mary heard a scream of pain burst forth from George's mouth. She flinched began trembling when she heard the pirate's voice.

"Are you ready to give over now?" Killian asked watching George nod mutely, he was in far too much pain to speak; the second and third wounds had cut as deep as the first. "Good! Larkin see that Lord Rochford's wounds are taken care of when we reach port we can either sell him to the Spanish or Portuguese for the galleys or in Algiers as a slave." Killian said callously. "Take him away!" Killian wiped the blood from his sword upon George Boleyn before the viscount was dragged away placing it back in his scabbard as he made his way to the doors of the cabins. "This one I believe..." He stated to his men that had come round to see what was contained inside, grinning, approaching the door he tried the handle, letting out a vulgar oath when he found it locked. Pulling a pistol from his belt he aimed and shot at the handle breaking the lock, the door creaking inward on its hinges. Killian stepped over the threshold stepping about the trunks and furniture looking about; pausing when he spotted a figure knelt behind a large chest. "AH!" He exclaimed grinning, hauling Mary up by one of her forearms to a standing position. "I believe that I have found the Pearl of Christendom!"


	2. Chapter 2

**The Princess and the Pirate: Chapter II**

I do not own the Tudors or Once Upon a Time. However I do own all original characters contained herein. Killian Fitzgerald, Lord Offaly, the Earl of Kildare's heir is inspired by Killian Jones/Captain Hook from Once Upon a Time hence the crossover. His back story is my own creation based in 16th century Irish history though his actions and personality some may find familiar as contained in Killian Jones/Captain Hook.

This story contains some swearing and mature themes (sexual and others). Adult reader's only please.

Happy Reading! Though not expected, reviews are welcomed and encouraged.

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**Watching every motion in my foolish lover's game**  
**On this endless ocean finally lovers know no shame**  
**Turning and returning to some secret place inside**  
**Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say**

**Take my breath away**  
**Take my breath away**

**Watching I keep waiting still anticipating love**  
**Never hesitating to become the fated ones**  
**Turning and returning to some secret place to hide**  
**Watching in slow motion as you turn to me and say,**

**My Love,**  
**Take my breath away**

**Through the hourglass I saw you, in time you slipped away**  
**When the mirror crashed I called you, and turned to hear you say**  
**If only for today I am unafraid**

**Take my breath away**  
**Take my breath away**

**Watching every motion in this foolish lover's game**  
**Haunted by the notion somewhere there's a love in flames**  
**Turning and returning to some secret place inside**  
**Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say**

**Take my breath away,**  
**My Love**  
**Take my breath away**  
**My Love**  
**Take my breath away**  
**Take my breath away - "Take My Breath Away" Berlin from the movie, TOP GUN**

"I demand that you unhand me this instant!" Mary cried, feeling an involuntary delicious shiver run up her arm where the pirate captain had it clasped within his hand. Looking up, she stared into the face of what surely was the devil, he was also one of the handsomest men that she had ever laid eyes upon. He had the most arresting blue eyes. They twinkled at her at the moment with flirtatious mischief as he grinned down into her face. "Who are you?" She demanded.

"Killian Fitzgerald, at your service, Your Grace." He inclined his head respectfully his eyes lowering, grasping her other hand, placing a courtly kiss upon it.

Was that his tongue that she felt flick quickly against her skin? Certainly she was imagining things, she thought to herself, as another tingle raced up her arm. Mary felt heat steal into her cheeks as she blushed. But then again... She thought as his eyes met hers once more, his lips curving into a rakish smile.

"Your Grace and your ladies are now under my protection." Killian stated.

"Your prisoners." Mary shot back.

"Your words, princess, not mine." Killian responded.

"What do you intend to do with me?" Mary asked.

_I could fuck you;_ he thought briefly his eyes sweeping over her. He imagined the long lustrous red-gold hair hidden beneath her cap and snood. Curious, he snatched it off her head with his free hand, her hair tumbling about her shoulders in a sensuous wave to her tiny waist. Killian noted her sapphire blue eyes and her pink and white English Rose complexion. Beautiful! He briefly fantasized how she would cry out with pleasure when he took her. "I could take you to one of the eastern ports. Some rich, powerful and influential infidel would pay a king's ransom to have the granddaughter of Their Most Catholic Majesties and Heiress to the English Throne in his harem."

"You would sell me into carnal bondage?" Mary was incredulous.

"Your Grace has the coloring so favored in the east. But then again, if you please me, I will keep you for myself." He teased her with a wink.

"Certainly His Majesty the King will pay the ransom you seek?" Mary asked, vainly hopeful.

"Do you believe that His Majesty will wish to ransom his stubborn daughter who has favored His estranged wife in the matter of his divorce? After so recently crowning Anne Boleyn?"

"What of my cousin, the Emperor?" Mary asked.

"Would he risk war over a seventeen year old slip of a girl? Even with your claim. He would prefer to keep you within the protection of a capable Catholic Anglo-Irish nobleman as myself."

"What do you intend to do with Lord Rochford?" Mary asked.

"Keep him below deck until he heals, then sell him into one of the galleys or in one of the Eastern slave markets. He is a pretty fellow. He will fetch a fair, if not high, price." Killian explained. "He most certainly will not be marrying Your Grace. He has not fucked you, erm, consummated your betrothal, has he?"

Mary was shocked that he would even ask such a question. "No! I am yet a maid."

Killian sighed in relief. "Not for all that much longer if I have anything to do with it."

"You would resort to rape?"

"Oh no, Love! When I take you it will be a sweet seduction and you will completely enjoy it." Killian assured her.

"Will I?" She was curious as one of the ship's cats. This realm of what went on between a man and woman in the sanctity of their marriage bed was all new to her. She had been betrothed to George Boleyn for such a short time a goodly portion of it spent traveling to Calais.

Killian laughed. "Aye! You will be screaming my name, Darling! The things I am going to do to you!" He promised in a seductive voice.

Mary blushed a pretty pink to the roots of her red-gold hair, shocked, intrigued and curious. "With the benefit of clergy beforehand."

"What sort of callow fiend do you take me for, Princess Mary? Of course there will be a wedding before the bedding. I must leave you to attend to some pressing matters. Be prepared to receive me at six. We will be taking our evening meal in the captain's cabin. I will post two gentlemen outside your door to keep some of the more unsavory members of my crew at bay."

"Pressing matters?" Mary asked.

"Yes, Princess, you do not want to step over the bodies of men on deck and slip on the blood, do you?" Killian asked.

Mary shook her head, her eyes becoming wide with shock.

"Do not be so distressed. All will be well. I am always a gentleman. I will see to all your comforts, princess as you will see to mine." Killian told her running the back of his hand against one of her cheeks, cupping her chin dipping his head down to take a quick taste of her lips that were soft and sweet next to his own. The contact sent a bolt of pure lust and desire to Killian's core.

"May my ladies and I attend the funerals of the men slain in the skirmish?" She asked sweetly against his mouth that still hovered over hers, poised for another taste.

"Anything you wish, Your Grace. Allow me one more sweet kiss, my beauty. A little something to hold close as a remembrance of when we shall encounter each other once more this evening. One more sweet kiss, princess." Killian pleaded, his lips a fraction of an inch from hers, his hot breath fanning her face. Snaking the tip of his tongue out from between them, he swiped it quickly along his lower lip, moistening it before crushing his mouth against hers, cradling the back of her head in his palm as he drank deep, the hairs of his moustache tickling her upper lip. "Until this evening, princess." He said, their lips parting. He smiled rakishly noting how luscious and inviting she appeared gently flushed, eyes soft and seductive with a passion that she did not know yet existed, her mouth wet and swollen from his kiss. Oh! How he looked forward to introducing and schooling her to the intimate pleasures found between a man and a woman. He released her quickly, disappearing through the cabin door.

When he was gone the women sighed with relief and admiration.

"He is bold, charming and incredibly handsome!" Frances Bayton stated.

"He is a scoundrel, a rogue and a rake!" Mary shot back.

"Yes, please! He could not keep his hands from Your Grace's person. Had Lady Susan, Lady Frances and I not been present he would have stolen far more than two kisses from you, Mary." Anne Morgan observed.

"It will be a sweet seduction. Captain Fitzgerald promised. Ah! To have a man such as he in your bed. He knows how to pleasure a woman I would warrant." Lady Susan added.

"Cease this bawdy and licentious talk this instant! It is most unseemly!" Mary commanded.

Frances sighed. "It is rather like a children's bedtime tale. The dashing rogue is rescuing the damsel in distress, or, in this case, a handsome pirate rescuing a princess from a potentially disastrous marriage."

"I had hoped Lord Offaly would have had the grace to kill Lord Rochford in the skirmish. We were not so fortunate." Anne Morgan added.

"Anne!" May admonished her waiting woman and friend.

"Lord Killian appears to be the more agreeable prospect. He would be certain that his lover received and experienced exquisite pleasure in their bed sport. He intends to have you, Mary." Susan stated, sighing.

"I cannot marry the Earl of Kildare's heir, if that is indeed him. I am betrothed to Lord Rochford as distasteful as that is. I will be a good wife to George Boleyn." Mary reminded her women.

"Miserable more than likely especially when he flaunts his whores and treats you abominably!" Frances said. "That Irishman has much to recommend him! That is Gerald Fitzgerald's son, I remember him from court!"

"He does have much to recommend him!" Mary mused dreamily. She could still feel where Killian had kissed and held her, as though she had been branded, she blushed remembering how strong his hands and arms felt, how the feel of them on her body made her stomach flutter and her skin flush and burn with what she suspected was lust and desire. "He has committed me to seeing after all of his comforts. I pray that I do not disappoint him."

"He will be more than willing to teach you in all that pleases him, in and out of bed." Anne giggled.

"To have one as he as my tutor in the Arts of Eros, I envy you, Mary!" Susan stated.

"What would my mother, the Queen, say and think about this turn of events?" Mary asked her women.

"She would be delighted that your married any man but George Boleyn!" Frances replied. "She most certainly cannot fault Lord Offaly his antecedents, he being related to His Late Majesty, your grandfather, King Henry the seventh of blessed memory. I believe that is also to be rumored to be a descendant of Brian Boru on his paternal side. Our Irish rogue is a gentleman and mindful of Your Grace's reputation. He did state that there would be a wedding before the bedding, Mary. He does not intend to take you without being properly wed to you first. But, or course, that doesn't not mean that he won't take liberties during your betrothal. A man such as him is bound to have his appetites and what better way to sate them then on his beautiful intended bride? If you are properly betrothed by a priest there will be no impediment."

"There will be if we are within the degrees of consanguinity. We will need a dispensation from Rome to marry." Mary said practically. Like her women she found Killian Fitzgerald a much more agreeable potential spouse than George Boleyn but she remained cautious about what was to happen and what her prospects might be.

* * *

Killian walked about on the decks, personally seeing to the dead and wounded. Making certain that the dead were moved to a temporary morgue on the deck where they could be properly prepared for burial at sea, the washing away of the blood from the decks. The wounded were taken down below to what had become a makeshift hospital the ships physician examining them.

Down below deck he found Lord Rochford who had been laid on one the mess tables where the men took their meals. The wounds where Killian had cut and stabbed George Boleyn were deep and most likely fatal. From the expression upon his face, Killian guessed that he was in quite a lot of pain.

"I will see to it personally that you lose your head for this, you Bog Trotting Bastard!" George rasped.

Killian clucked his tongue. "Save your breath. You are going to need it for breathing. You are certainly in no condition to tend to and amuse that lovely betrothed of yours. Since Her Grace is now under my protection her care and comfort are now my primary concern. It will be a couple of hours yet then you will be of completely no use."

"Hours?" George asked.

"Aye. Hours. You are dying, man, from loss of blood. The physician said that you bled out quite a bit. You are still bleeding." Killian explained to George. "When you are finally serving as food for the fishes as they pick at your miserable bones, I will avail myself to that fiery haired siren. Think of those lily white thighs wrapped about my waist, those rosebud lips parted as she cries her pleasure as I thrust into her whilst you are rotting in everlasting hell!"

George Boleyn snarled. "She would never prefer a wild man like you!" He coughed, sputtering up spittle and blood which stained his lips.

"No? Her Grace does not appear to have such inclinations. She referred to me as a rogue, a scoundrel and a rake. All epithets I freely admit to but never a wild man, Lord Rochford, unless your reference is in the kindest possible way, say, in performance in bed sport, perhaps? Remember I have English blood in my veins, inherited from My Lady Mother, God Rest her good soul. It is because of that English blood that I did not take your miserable life when I had the opportunity. My sense of honor is allowing Your Lordship to suffer as you undoubtedly would have made that delicious betrothed of yours suffer had you married her." Killian mocked and baited George Boleyn, walking about the table, pausing to stare down at the dying man.

"She will never have you!" George protested. He could not believe Killian Fitzgerald's audacity. The king would certainly have him clapped in the Tower for his ambitions if he ever learnt of them but George knew that the prospects of that happening where nil seeing as the pirate had the Mary Rose under his control.

"Do not be so certain, Lord Rochford." Killian bent down at the head of the table where George Boleyn's own head rested so his lips were level with one of George's ears. "I could feel her heat and saw her blush and tremble with desire when I was close to her, so close that my chest crushed against her breasts when I pulled her to me. How sweet and petal soft her mouth was when I kissed her, not once, but twice. There is a fierce passion bubbling beneath that innocence and inexperience. It will be a most fortunate man that has the pleasure to unleash and explore it with her. Me!"

"Bastard!" George whispered painfully. He could feel the life begin to leave him as his breathing began to become more and more labored, his limbs feeling as though they were on fire with pain.

"My parents would beg to differ, Lord Rochford." Killian said. He was taking great pleasure in baiting and tormenting Anne Boleyn's brother. The man certainly deserved it! "They were legitimately married when I was conceived and born." He clucked his tongue disapprovingly once again. "For all your fine education you are in sore need of some manners but I suppose they will not matter seeing as you will not be with us for much longer..."

"Go to hell!"

"You first!" Killian shot back noting how the light seemed to fade from George's eyes as the final moments of his life came to a close sooner than Killian had expected. His opponent's wounds were far more serious than had originally been suspected.

"I will see you there, Fitz..." George managed to speak before death and the devil finally took him

* * *

Mary jumped in her chair where she sat embroidering hearing the door burst open as Killian strode into the cabin, stopping to stand before Mary, bowing with a courtly flourish. "Your Grace, I regret to inform you that George, Lord Rochford has died of the wounds that he sustained in the fighting. With your intended now dead, Your Grace is free to form another alliance with an eligible nobleman of a similar station. After a respectable period of mourning has passed since Your Grace is under my care and protection for the foreseeable future, I would beg permission that said eligible nobleman of a similar station be allowed to court you princess with the intent to do the honorable thing especially seeing since for your protection and safety we will be sharing a bed every night. We both know, princess, that I am the most agreeable choice." He grinned roguishly winking after the last bit about his perfect suitability as a husband.

"You are quick to offer with haste, Lord Offaly, when Lord Rochford has just breathed his last." Mary remarked. "Can the man not be buried first before you come a wooing? It will please me to accept your suit seeing as it would appear to be the best course to my continued protection and safety."

"I promise to do all I can to bring you comfort and make you happy." Killian vowed.

Mary knew that what she had just done was rash and reckless. Her mother had wanted her to marry the Emperor, a king or a prince not the heir to the Earl of Kildare though the Fitzgeralds were traditionally Lord Deputies of Ireland. If Gerald, the present earl died, Mary would become the First Lady of Ireland as Killian's countess. The Irish earls would rally about and pledge their loyalty to her. Her father would be furious! So would The Lady. She would not do it without a dispensation that one of the crew had told her Killian was willing to travel with her personally to Rome to obtain if need be certain that His Holiness would marry them himself if only to annoy her father, the King of England.

Mary stood on the deck with Killian, her ladies and both ship's crews as the chaplain said the Mass for the Dead chanting prayers in Latin as each dead sailor and Lord Rochford was committed to the sea. Mary did not shed a tear for George Boleyn but she did for the sailors lost. She prayed, thanking Almighty God for her deliverance from a miserable fate and for sending Killian Fitzgerald to her. He may prove to be her salvation from the past six years of uncertainty and turmoil.

* * *

At Killian's orders, during the Mass for the Dead, Mary's possessions were moved into the captain's cabin. George Boleyn's possessions were gone through by one of the Irishman's subordinates that knew his master's tastes and preferences. He took what he knew Killian would like and then the wee bit that was left over for himself and other members of the crew.

The chef set about preparing a wonderful dinner, simple yet elegant. The captain had given orders that it be romantic and would please a lady, a princess.

There were mussels poached in white wine, shallots, garlic and butter. Dover sole and salmon. One of the chickens had its neck wrung, killed, plucked, cleaned and roasted, stuffed with a mixture of bread crumbs, herbs, shallots, garlic and apples. There were carrots cooked in ale and butter and then dressed with dill, asparagus. There was fresh bread, butter and honey, ale and white wine to drink. For dessert there was an apple tart.

Killian put on a clean shirt and one of George Boleyn's doublets, this one in midnight blue velvet embroidered with planets and constellations in silver and gold thread, pulling bits of his shirt through the slashings. The clothes were a tad bit large but not enough to make a noticeable difference. He washed his face and cleaned off any of the residual blood stains from his person, rinsing with fresh water, of which the ship had several barrels in the hold. He paused for a moment to peer at himself in the silver mirror viewing the effect. The midnight blue doublet was very flattering, the color enhancing the color in his blue eyes.

Mary chose to wear a gown of Tudor green, one of the garments that had been made in the French fashion for her and Lord Rochford's reception of His Majesty, King Francis in Calais. The gown, embroidered with spring and summer flowers, butterflies and moths upon the skirt and bodice, scattered in a pretty pattern. The edge of the bodice was decorated with alternate rows of pearls and sapphires. Mary's kirtle was white satin embroidered with violets and roses in shades of purple, red, pink and yellow with green stems and leaves. She wore pearls about her neck and in her ears. Still a virgin, Mary allowed her hair to flow freely down her back to her tiny waist, the heavy red gold curls dressed with green and white ribbons and strands of pearls. On her legs were white stockings clocked with red Cadwallader dragons and roses, slippers upon her feet.

Smoothing Mary's skirts, Frances stepped back to look at her mistress when she was finally ready. "Lord Offaly will not be able to keep his eyes from Your Grace." She explained with a smile.

"You do not believe the bodice of my gown is too low?" Mary asked, gazing at herself in the pier glass. She had never showed so much cleavage, though it was flattering.

"It is in the French fashion, Your Grace." Anne Morgan explained to Mary. "His Lordship has attended the French court, it will not be unfamiliar to him."

"It will be on an Englishwoman." Mary said, blushing.

"He is already interested in and quite taken with Your Grace. No harm in increasing his ardor." Frances commented looking Mary up and down. "You are a beautiful young woman no harm in celebrating that fact. No wonder Anne Boleyn wished you married and away from court!"

"I just lost my betrothed. I should show some respect to Lord Rochford's memory."

"Would he have if the tables were turned? No. He would have been out drinking and wenching at the earliest opportunity. The beast!" Susan said.

Mary did not have time to respond as she entered the captain's cabin.

* * *

He was there. Hearing her, he turned about, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes took her in, a bolt of pure unadulterated lust slamming into him. ""Shall we skip straight to the dessert? Forgo the meal? There is enough of you to satisfy my hunger."

"Is there enough to satisfy mine?" Mary asked.

Killian smiled wickedly at her retort. "We could find out, Love."

"I have never..."

"Of course, princess. Are you not curious to find out? I know a beautiful woman such as you will never disappoint a man. You are the most beautiful creature on God's earth."

"Flatterer! Your Lordship had best not speak so lest you entice me to vanity."

"'Tis the truth, Your Grace, if we are not to satisfy our baser appetites at present we had best eat. May I see you settled in your seat? It would bring me great pleasure." Killian blatantly flirted with Mary making her blush as he took one of her hands in his leading her to her seat at the table, the contact of flesh next to flesh setting off the sparks between them. Pulling out her chair, releasing her hand but not before bending his head to plant a kiss upon it, he helped her settle in. Going about to take his own seat.

The pair placing their napkins in their laps, pausing to say Grace as the steward and cook brought in the dishes beginning with the mussels and a small loaf of manchet bread with butter. A white wine was poured into their goblets.

"I hope it does not distress Your Grace that Lord Rochford's mortal remains were committed to the sea along with those of the other dead. I know that his body could have been kept in the hold and conveyed back to England in a passing ship but I did not wish to have his body present as a reminder of an unpleasant future that faced Your Grace."

"It does not distress me at all, Lord Offaly. As the present captain of this ship it is your duty to do as you see fit. I do know that it will profoundly distress his family that his remains were not conveyed back to England where he could have been properly mourned. I appreciate your consideration of my own personal feelings in the matter. Having his body present upon the ship would have been an unpleasant reminder. I would have also had felt an obligation to sit vigil for His Lordship. Obligations that I would have felt hypocritical performing, even though they were and are my duty as his former betrothed. There was no love lost between us. I know he hated me even though he quite openly lusted after me. He desired to exercise his rights as soon as he was able."

"Was there an impediment? He was not impotent, was he?" Killian asked crudely.

"Pardon? I do not know what..."

"No. Of course you do not know. He..."

"He was not able because he suffered from acute sea sickness. He was positively green by the time we left the London Pool."

Killian, who had taken to the sea as soon as he could walk and was an expert sailor who had weathered all sorts of conditions, burst out laughing. "God's truth? Lucky for you not to be subject to his lust, I had heard rumors whilst at the French court regarding..." His voice trailed off. The thought of George Boleyn potentially touching her in an intimate fashion made Killian feel incredibly uncomfortable and jealous. Thanks be to God the man was dead.

"No, his words. He was quite clear as to what his intensions toward me were." Mary shuddered at the distasteful memories.

"What were they? Did he frighten you?" Killian was worried that the fool has scared her with his crude words.

"A little..."

"With the right man the intimacies of the marriage bed can be quite enjoyable, princess. It does not have to be all duty to result in an heir. One can, and should, enjoy the process of creating said heir."

"Can they?"

"Oh, yes, Love." Killian said with a rakish grin. "If you will allow me to..."

Mary blushed. "I..." She hesitated.

"I promise that you will enjoy it."

"So confident. Should we be...?"

"Let me help ease your not so pleasant memories of the man." Killian offered.

Mary popped a mussel in her mouth assessing the handsome man seated across the table from her, inviting her to commit one of the most carnal of sins, tempting and enticing her, peaking her virgin's curiosity. Would it be so dreadful to sample some intimate pleasures if he had made a promise that he would have her? She had to sleep in the same bed with him for her safety and protection. He was handsome as sin and he made it plain he wanted her. She felt the attraction and indescribable pull when she gazed into his deep stormy blue eyes. The memories of being forced into a betrothal with George Boleyn were not pleasant. She would have preferred the much younger than Lord Rochford, Henry Howard the Earl of Surrey, Norfolk's heir. "How does one propose to do that?" Mary asked as they continued eating.

Killian laughed. "I am going to do the most wicked and deliciously naughty things to you." He said confidentally.

"Such as?" She felt the heat of anticipation steal up from her core to stain her chest and face a pretty pink. Her pulses began pounding. Feeling a pull toward this man, her body tingling all over. Is this what lust and desire felt like? She asked herself.

"I believe it best that I show, as oppose to, describe it to you." Killian replied.

"Are you going to leave me wondering, Fitzgerald?" She asked. She was as curious as the cats on this ship.

"So eager to learn, Madame Tudor." He teased. "Have you eaten enough food and drunken enough wine that you are craving something else now? A hunger that you know I can only satisfy? Ready and most willing? What gentleman would deny that pretty request?" He added, his eyes raking over her, smiling.

"Would you?" She answered his question with one of her own, gazing at him across the table.

"Never would I ever dream of disappointing so fair a maiden." He replied leaning that much closer, taking one of her hands into one of his. "Come now, love, let us ease that specter of Lord Rochford from you..." He added, his voice a low seductive caress.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Princess and the Pirate: Chapter III **

**I do not own the Tudors. However I do own all original characters contained herein. **

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**This chapter contains Mature and Explicit Sexual Content/Talk. Adult Readers Only, please. **

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**I could lose my heart tonight**  
**If you don't turn and walk away**  
**'Cause the way I feel I might**  
**Lose control and let you stay**

**'Cause I could take in my arms**  
**And never let go**

**I could fall in love with you**  
**I could fall in love with you**

**I can only wonder how**  
**Touching you would make me feel**  
**But if I take that chance right now**  
**Tomorrow will you want me still**

**So I should keep this to myself**  
**And never let you know**

**I could fall in love with you**  
**I could fall in love with you**

**And I know it's not right**  
**And I guess I should try to do what I should do**  
**But I could fall in love, fall in love with you**  
**I could fall in love with you**  
**Siempre estoy sonando en ti**  
**Besando mis labios, acariciando mi piel**  
**Abrazandome con ansias locas**  
**Imaginando que me amas**  
**Como yo podia amar a ti.**

**So I should keep this to myself**  
**And never let you know**

**I could fall in love with you**  
**I could fall in love with you**

**I could fall in love, I could fall in love**  
**With you...- "I Could Fall In Love With You" Selena**

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His thumb traced patterns in her palm, setting her heart to pounding and her pulse to racing, closing his hand about hers, pulling her to her feet, their chairs skidding back as he moved her about the table to him swiftly, allowing her chest to crush against his.

"I am going to enjoy this." He stated, his eyes twinkling. "We both will. I promise." He added before his head dipped to capture her mouth with his in a toe curling kiss. "That's it. Do not resist, Love. Enjoy it." He coaxed her, feeling her lips softly yield against his, parting for his tongue that traced along her lower lip then the seam of her mouth seeking entrance which she allowed, moaning low in the back of her throat, a sound of feminine desire as his tongue touched hers for the first time, swirling about it with his own as his mouth devoured hers, his teeth nipping at her lips.

"Oh, Sweet Jesu! Mary!" Killian whispered hoarsely against her mouth, coming up for oxygen. "Sweet! Your mouth tastes so sweet. "He said, pulling back to stare at her for a moment all flushed and soft with her first taste of kissing, of passion, his thumb tracing along her lower lip.

Instinctively she drew it into her mouth, nipping at the pad with her small white teeth, then sucking gently upon it.

Killian chuckled. "You learn fast, Love. You keep that up and I will have you naked on your back upon that bed in no time."

"Will you, My Lord? Do I have your solemn word?" She asked, reaching out a hand to brush it gently against one of his high sculpted cheekbones.

"So curious and eager to render yourself of your maiden state or near it as to what we shall explore this night?" Killian asked. "Let us get you out of that lovely dress. Then I promise to show Your Grace the pleasures one may find between a man and a woman. Now turn about, Mary, so I may maid you."

Mary did as she was bid, feeling heat stealing through her veins when he touched her back, pulling on the bow that held the laces on the back of the bodice secure, undoing it. Using his fingers, he deftly unlaced it. Inhaling her rose fragrance along the side of her neck, his lips and moustache teasing it, trailing over her skin, planting kisses against it, creating a path over to a shoulder, making her shiver with desire, leaning into him, wriggling her backside suggestively against his groin, feeling his organ swell beneath her buttocks.

Killian growled with passion against her skin. "Patience, Love. You continue like that and I will tear the rest of your gown from you until you will be left naked." He warned.

Mary shivered with anticipation. "Will you?" She asked, allowing him to draw her bodice from her, tossing it onto a nearby chair, his fingers then began working at the tapes of her kirtle and petticoats, quickly, with one skilled hand as the other ran up and down over her low cut chemise, dancing over her small round breasts, feeling the nipples hardening to taut peaks underneath his fingers expert caresses, feeling the princess lean into him, her head gently tossing back, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips as she closed her eyes.

"Yes! Oh, yes, my fiery haired beauty! Then I will carry you to bed and ravish you!" He added, his words punctuated by kisses which he trailed from her shoulder up her neck to an ear, biting the lobe with his teeth none to gently closing about the earring she wore, his tongue swirling in her shell-like ear, his hot breath blowing inside. "Just wait until I kiss you all over, princess."

"Killian!" She pleaded a bit nervous and uncertain as to what she was feeling. Certainly to feel this wonderful from the kisses and caresses of a man was a Mortal Sin? She had never felt this way, as though she was on fire, liquid heat coursing through her veins, a most delicious feeling. The cool air hitting her skin as the petticoats and kirtle fell about her in a gentle whisper of fabric to the floor. Killian helping her out of them leaving Mary now only clad in her low-cut chemise, stockings, garters and slippers.

"Step out of your slippers." He instructed, running his palms over her hips and upper thighs against the fine linen of her chemise, pulling it up past thighs, hips and higher, revealing the golden triangle of curls between her legs, her flat stomach and fetching little navel that Killian ached to kiss and nip at with his teeth, her abdomen. "Lift your arms over your head, Love."

Mary raised her arms allowing him to bare her to his gaze.

Killian could not tear his eyes away. She was beautiful, her pink and white skin illuminated by the fading light of the day. "Oh, God! You are a goddess!" Killian exclaimed tossing her chemise onto the same chair that he had tossed her bodice, leaving her completely naked save her garters and stockings. "Turn about so that I may look upon you."

Mary slowly turned, an arm crossed over her breasts, a hand over her Venus mont fingers splayed to hide the tangle of golden curls covering it. Her skin flushing a gentle pink in her embarrassment, she had never been naked before a man before save for when she was christened and displayed as a babe to various ambassadors to make certain she was not deformed in any way. Not as a young woman and in front of a man as dangerously handsome as Killian Fitzgerald. She could see the naked hunger in his brilliant blue eyes, watched how his pupils dilated with interest and lust as they swept over her body, seeming to pause at certain portions, the swell of her breast beneath her arm, the indentations of her waist and swell of her hips, the corners of his lips twitching upward. The assessment made her flush with shame and desire mingled together, confusing her. No man had ever looked at her with what she imagined was such open naked want as she imagined how a wolf stared at its prey in the forest before it attacked.

"Take your hands away, Mary Love, there is no need to be ashamed. Let me look upon all of you as God fashioned you. You are beautiful, you should be proud of how lovely you are." Killian said taking a step toward her, encouraging her to let her arm and hand fall away from the portions her person they covered.

She hesitated at first, watching the expression in his eyes, slowly drawing her arm from over her breasts, watching the blue of his eyes darken even more with lust and desire, his twitching lips break out into a wolfish grin as the twin orbs with their rosy colored nipples were revealed to his gaze, feeling the tingles of want and need course through her when she heard him gasp and groan with a naked need for her.

"Sweet Christ! " His voice rasped in the quiet of the room, thick with his lust for her. "Draw your other hand away. I wish to see all of you."

"I cannot! Is it not sinful?" She asked.

"There is no sin in admiring the beautiful creation that the Lord, in his mercy, has made." Killian replied, grasping her wrist, gently drawing her fingers away. "So lovely, so very lovely." He murmured appreciatively, pulling her into his arms in an embrace, the fingertips of a hand skimming along her bare hip and thigh, snaking over to tangle within the vee of curls, his index finger slipping down between her legs to gently tease her, finding her hot and wet for him, just as he wanted her, withdrawing his finger quickly tracing patterns on her lower belly. "Let me take you to bed and show you what passion is all about. You are more than ready to learn."

"What of your clothes, Killian? Am I to stand about as Venus in fear of catching a chill from the cool channel air whilst Your Lordship remains fully clothed? Do you not have to be as God fashioned you to instruct me as to what passion is all about?"

"So eager and willing to learn. Will you help me remove my clothing then?" He asked with a grin.

"If you explain that which I am to do I will help Your Lordship undress. Show me what to do." She said, standing before him, reaching her slender hands out, trembling she worked at the buttons of his doublet, fumbling a bit, giggling with nervousness, virtually all thumbs, also self conscious of her nakedness, her skin flushing all over, totally aware of his eyes watching her, appreciating her breasts and the curves and contours of her young body. Moving closer to him, her nipples grazed his chest, tightening to two taut peaks.

Killian mutter a vulgar oath, going to help her, making quick work of the remaining buttons of the doublet, stepping away from her slightly to remove it, tossing it upon the chair with all the other clothing, then pulling on the closures of his shirt next, yanking the hem out of his breeches. "Help me, Love." He stated, grasping handfuls of his shirt, pulling it up over his broad muscular back. Up over his shoulders, arms and head until it was completely off, tossing it in the chair on top of his doublet.

Bare chested he turned to her letting her admire his body. "Do not be frightened, Mary. Touch me. I will not bite. Unless you wish me to, of course. With some schooling Your Grace may find that you may enjoy it a bit rough but that is an exploration for another time. For now, Mary, just touch me." He encouraged her.

Mary hesitated at first, holding a hand out then pulling it away at the last moment, biting her lower lip in vexation, reaching out again, running the palm over the crisp black hairs that covered his chest, enjoying the feel of the rock hard muscles of it beneath her hand.

"Yes. That's it, Mary. Touch me! Use your hands."

"What of my bosom?" She asked moving closer to him, brushing her erect nipples against his chest, pressing her body against him, her virgin's curiosity getting the better of her, closing her eyes, sighing at the sensual sensation.

"Does that please you?" He inquired with a devilish smile watching her. "Oh, Darlin' what I am going to show and do to you. Can you wait whilst I remove my boots? Then help me with my breeches."

Mary nodded watching as he quickly removed his boots. Coming back to her, guiding her hands to the laces of his breeches helping her to quicklly undo them, slipping out of them until he was in all his naked glory, standing before her as Manannan mac Lir, the Celtic god of the sea, dark and commanding.

"Like what you see, Love?" He asked with a wink letting her admire him. Killian knew that he was a handsome man, women and his pier glass had told him as much. God had blessed him with many assets that would please a woman. He grinned with pleasure watching Mary's eyes sweep over him, shyly at first, then a wee bit more boldly, her gaze lingering in certain places, especially his erection which was long and hard with his desire for her. "You know that I was made to please you. Shall I show you how?" He asked picking her up in his arms, carrying her the scant feet to the bed. He laid her gently upon it, staring at her for a long moment. She was beautiful, with her pale skin, and her red gold hair and those sapphire blue eyes that shone like the finest Ceylon stones, she had engendered his lust the moment he had found her cowering behind the large chest in her cabin earlier that day. Now he would have her and make her his. What had belonged to Rochford would now belong to him. Unlike Rochford he would cherish this fiery haired siren whose purity and innocence was at odd with a body that so clearly had been fashioned for the carnal attentions of a man. No wonder Anne Boleyn hate her, Killian thought.

"Come teach me about passion." She whispered softly. "Ravish me!"

"Not so afraid of committing a mortal sin, are you?" He teased, climbing upon the bed, drawing her to him, his mouth finding hers, kissing her passionately for several long minutes, his mouth trailing a path of burning kisses over a cheek, against the line of her jaw down her neck, his tongue laving the hollow at the base.

"Killian!" She moaned his name, clutching at him, sighing with pleasure, when his lips closed over an erect nipple his tongue flicking against the tip as he sucked upon it.

"Oh!" She cried again as new sensuous and sinfully delicious sensations washed over her. Her body quickly becoming a hot molten mass of burning desire, something totally unfamiliar to her as she experienced carnal passion for the very first time. Enjoying the feel of his hard muscular body on her soft feminine one, crisp chest hair touching her breasts and abdomen eliciting sighs and whimpers of want and need, she was profoundly curious to know and learn more.

"Do you like this? Apparently you do. Shall I give the other lovely breast some attention or should I venture further south ward in my exploration of your lovely body?" Killian asked her.

"What will you do when you move further south?" She asked.

"I can do this." He explained to her, his mouth releasing her breast, blowing upon it with his hot breath, moving himself downward, position himself between her thighs that fell open of their own accord, his mouth planting kisses against her breastbone venturing further south ward toward her navel, kissing, licking and nipping at her soft smooth skin as he went, tending to every precious inch of her, feeling Mary press her back into the mattress, thrusting her torso up to him, unsure of what she truly wanted from him but instinctively seeking it all the same, wanting that source of pleasure to never cease.

"Yes, Killian." She whispered hoarsely. "Yes, please. Oh, do that!" She encouraged feeling his moustache and beard scruff chafe gently against the sensitive skin of her lower belly near her navel, undulating her hips suggestively, not having any idea what she was doing, just going on instinct once more. Only knowing that it was giving her exquisite pleasure and that she wanted to feel more of him.

"You are enjoying that?" He asked, chuckling at her response. Did she have any idea as to what she was doing to him? It took every ounce of his self control not to move his head between her milky white thighs and begin orally pleasuring her but he would wait. Half of the enjoyment of seducing her was in the details, of exploring every inch of her like teasing her navel which he was presently doing at this moment, the point of his tongue tracing about the perimeter before plunging inside, tickling her, his teeth nipping ever so gently at the taut smooth skin, his big hands cradling her hips on either side, holding her steady as she squirmed against him moaning once more as he introduced her to more delightful sensual sensations. Tickling her increasingly overly sensitive skin with the hairs upon his upper lip and his beard once more laughing lightly as she buried her hands into his black hair, the pads of her fingers kneading against his scalp. "What else would Your Grace enjoy? Mmmmm... I have an idea."He stated mischievously, blue eyes twinkling, his head lowering, his mouth teasing the tender space of skin between her navel and the tangle of burnished gold curls covering her Venus mont, kissing and licking her skin moving lower still, his hot breath blowing on those same curls.

She drew a hard sharp breath when she felt his mouth touch her there, and then an audible gasp when she felt the tip of his tongue touching her in a most incredibly intimate manner, his palms reaching beneath her to cup her buttocks, nudging her thighs upon his shoulders, his broad tongue continuing to stroke her, finding her little hidden jewel of flesh, flicking at it with the pointed tip of that same tongue, then sucking gently upon it, his mouth closing over it drawing it slight into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth.

"Killian!" She squeaked, her fingers grasping handfuls of that silky black hair, pushing his face further into her.

Blessed Mother! His mouth pleasing her between her legs! Had she ever felt anything so exquisitely wonderful in all her seventeen years of living? If this was a portion of what she would experience in his bed every night as his wife, she would marry him in a trice. Dispensation or no! The ministrations of his mouth most certainly were not a sin as they were creating the most wonderful feelings as tension built with each delicious flick of his pointed tongue against her overly sensitive pearl of flesh. Mary's breath becoming shallow, coming in short hot pants as she moaned, a low sensual sound from the back of her throat. "Oh yes! Killian! It feels so good!" She crooned with her virgin's honestly. "Oh God! Your tongue! Yes! There! Right there! Oh, Killian! Killian! My Wild Irish Rogue!"

"I will be your only rogue, Bewitching Welsh Witch!" He declared. "There will be only me, no other, My Fiery haired beautiful siren!" Resuming his loving ministrations, his talented tongue doing the most deliciously wicked things to her once more, the pressure building and building until she soared, feeling her soul being virtually torn from her body to merge with his as behind her closed eyelids, her world burst into a thousand stars, crying his name over and over as a sacred litany. "Killian! Killian!" She gasped the sound of his name on her lips as the tremors of her first climax slowly subsided, tenderly running her fingers through his hair. "Is it always this way?" She asked.

"What way, princess?"

"As what just happened between us, is it always this way with every man? Will I seem to soar among the clouds when he brings me to my fulfillment, Killian? Allowing me to scream his name as I cry my pleasure?"

"Not bloody likely, Love. One would imagine it is different with every man." He explained, laughing lightly grinning smugly, delighted that he had pleased her so.

"I have been most fortunate then. Show me more, Killian. What happens next? Certainly this is not all there is?" She asked, she was still on fire for him, her newly awakened and aroused body craving more of him, whatever else there was there for him to give. "I want you!" She stated.

Killian groaned. She was so tempting and eager having tasted her first bit of passion. His initial assessment of her was correct, she would be a passionate lover, his hot blooded Tudor wench looking so deliciously fetching still wearing her stockings and garters on her shapely legs, her pale skin flushed with their recent bout of passion, eyes shining and sparkling with her new knowledge of the pleasures found between a man and a woman. So ready and wanting to be made love to. Dare he take that next step and make her completely and totally his? Between his legs his erection twitched against his belly, his cock impatient to be inside her.

She watched him intently, seeing the emotions pass over his devastatingly handsome face. "Take me, Killian. Make me yours in every sense. Make love to me." She said beckoning him to her with the crook of an index finger using her feminine wiles to entice him, trembling with desire beneath him as he came up, covering her body with his muscular one, his chest hair tickling her breasts and belly.

"Are you certain? Once it is done there is no going back. They will consider you soiled goods, Love, or even worse, the whore of a notorious pirate. Is that what you want?" He told her the worst scenario.

She nodded. "Please!"

"Of course, we will marry." He reassured her. "As I promised." God! He would venture to hell and back to protect her. She needed a man that would love and care for her, someone like him that wanted her, who would never hurt her or break her heart. "Wrap your legs about my hips, Love." He instructed positioning himself between them guiding his cock to her sheath. "This will pain you, but only briefly, I promise, Sweeting." Killian said thrusting inside her, in one quick motion, burying himself deep within her with a groan.

Mary gasped at the feel of her first invasion. "It stings!" She complained feeling a quick sensation of burning which quickly subsided. She felt him inside her on all sides, her sheath as a glove about his cock, the feeling not at all unpleasant. If truth be told, Mary quite enjoyed the ultimate intimacy with this man who was to be her husband.

Killian began to move within her tightness with slow, masterful strokes of his cock increasing his pace leaning down to kiss her, his mouth tender and gentle upon hers. "Is it what you imagined it would be?" He asked.

"More than I ever thought it could be. It stung at first but now..." Her voice trailed off, smiling, she blushed, tipping her chin up slightly, kissing him back, gently at first, then with more hunger and need, as she felt his cock move inside her with sure strokes, stoking the flames that leapt through her veins to a fever pitch which threatened to consume her as he drew her down into a vortex of passion and desire.

"What about now?" He asked, coming up for oxygen, smiling rakishly down at her, kissing the tip of her retouse' nose, withdrawing slightly then thrusting deep.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "It feels wonderful now. You inside me, filling me." She groaned suppressing her want to cry out, pursing her lips together, her body tingling beneath the caresses of his fingertips as he traced them along one of her sides from ribs to waist.

"Fucking you madly." He supplied crudely, raising a brow, winking rakishly then grinning. "Cry your pleasure, Mary. Let every man out on that deck know how I make you feel. Scream my name, keen and moan as loud as you wish. I certainly won't mind."

Mary smiled. "You won't? Ohhhhhhh, Killian! Yessssssss! Ohhhhhhh, yessssssssssssssssss! F-f-fuck me!" She giggled.

"Cheeky Madame!" He cried, tickling her as he thrust deeper insider her.

"Killian! Oh, Lord! Killian!" She cried out through peals of laughter as he continued to tickle her and make exquisite love to her. A few more thrusts of his cock inside her and she found Paradise on a cry, just as Killian groaned loudly pouring his tribute inside her, filling her with his seed.

"Holy Mother! That was amazing!" He exclaimed attempting to catch his breath, chuckling through shallow inhales filling his lungs, smiling with pleasure. "You are absolutely amazing!"


End file.
